Attention: Ash Wednesday 2025
“Inwardly attentive.” These two words stood out on the page in my mini Gift from the Sea book, prompting me to write those two words in my journal. I keep this book close at hand, picking it up for no particular reason, and reading wherever the ribbon marks where I left it last.
Inwardly attentive is what I hope happens each morning, sitting in the same place year-round––cup of coffee to my right, a pile of books on the table where I prop my feet. Reach for a book.
For now, it’s three books I chose to read before/during Lent. I’m also reading in Genesis.
Reading to quiet my mind, to focus enough to become inwardly attentive amid distractions aplenty, on some days I stop to write in my journal.
Poetry in Motion
Earlier this week, I reached for Mary Oliver’s book of poetry. Moving from a cemetery to a swamp to listening to birds sing (three different poems), the observant poet connects what she saw outside her body to how these things affected her inwardly.
Inwardly attentive.
In the poem, “Mockingbird,” she described her response to hearing two mockingbirds sing. Observant and captivated, she wrote, “I had nothing better to do than listen. I mean this seriously.”
The scene reminded her of the story about a couple in Greece who opened their door to two strangers.
. . .
It is my favorite story––
how the old couple had almost nothing to give
but their willingness
to be attentive––
and for this alone
the gods loved them
and blessed them.
When the gods rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water
from a fountain,
the light
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,
and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
bowed down––
but still they asked for nothing
beyond the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.
And moving from this imagined scene, the poet described herself back in the green field, listening to mockingbirds sing.
Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning––
whatever it was I said
I would be doing––
I was standing
at the edge of the field––
I was hurrying
through my own soul,
opening its dark doors––
I was leaning out;
I was listening.
Maybe like the couple “shaken with understanding,” she too bowed down.
Mary Oliver (b. 1935, d. 2012) won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1984, and has since 2007 been declared the best-selling poet in America.
Outwardly aware. Inwardly attentive. Mary Oliver’s poem “Mockingbirds” [1] echoes Ann Morrow Lindbergh’s reminder that each of us needs a few moments of solitude, even amid the most crowded day––to “be for a time inwardly attentive.”
40 Days of Lent
From Ash Wednesday to Easter, not counting Sundays, people all over the world observe Lent. It’s a season for paying attention, either focused on giving up something that occupies too much attention or adding something that perhaps hasn’t warranted enough attention.
Like paying too much attention to our phones. Like not paying enough attention to what we consume.
I don’t know much about Lent. But I’m listening. Reading. Thinking through what I read. Wondering what, if anything, will capture my attention. What scenes, experiences, and words will reach me personally?
An Overlooked Gift
One of the other books I’m reading throughout Lent, A Way of Seeing, by artist, missionary, and writer Lilias Trotter. I knew nothing about Lilias, or even where or when I came by this book I’d never read. Random selection.
Must be an overlooked gift.
Trotter wrote that “Imagination is better than a sharp instrument. To pay attention, this our endless and proper work.”
From the book’s Introduction, I read enough to send me searching for more about this author because when I pulled this book off a shelf, I thought it was a book written by someone else.
Website: liliastrotter.com
Born in England in 1853 to a wealthy family, she died in Africa (d.1928) after serving for 40 years as a missionary to Arab people in Algeria. Her journals and her pocket-size watercolor sketchbooks provide the basis of her published books, many still in print. [2]
“Imagination is better than a sharp instrument. To pay attention, this our endless and proper work.”
Trotter’s painting opposite page where she wrote about the desert
Professor at Oxford University and famous art critic John Ruskin who mentored Lilias, he believed she would “become immortal if she would give herself up to art.” Yet, resisting his offer to make her name great among artists in her time, she felt a higher calling and claim on her life.
. . . “During her forty years in North Africa, she pioneered means, methods, and materials to reach the Arab people, which, in retrospect, are considered to have been a hundred years ahead of her time.” (Quote from website)
“Endless and Proper Work”
Remembering that Greek couple, I remind myself, all they could give was their willingness to be attentive.
Without ashes on my forehead, I will seek throughout Lent to be inwardly attentive. With tentative steps, I may discover many things I have overlooked.
Rather than depriving people of something, maybe the season of Lent prepares people to receive something better.
[1] read complete poem here: The Atlantic